


Delusional [Overwatch Original Fic]

by QueenCandyness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other, he's trying his best, his ego is inflated, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCandyness/pseuds/QueenCandyness
Summary: [one-shot] Elliot Jones finally met his match when he sets a goal up to a standard that not even he himself would be able to crown over.[© 2017 | иєιgє]





	Delusional [Overwatch Original Fic]

Bullets fired down the alleyway as Elliot hid himself in a corner, panting heavily. He held his injured left arm that was shot when he was fleeing. Blood soaked his navy blue jacket that he wore with pride. His face scrunched, knowing he had to wash it before giving it to his mother to sew up the holes.  
   
The bullets halted as soon as he went into cover and all was silent for a brief moment, much to Elliot’s despair. Suddenly, there was a close-by conversation that lingered in the air. Elliot knew who they were, not in the sense of actually knowing everything about them, just the fact that the two men chased him down like dogs.  
   
“This guy’s a waste of skin. He won’t last that long out in tha’ wasteland.” A gruff and thick accent echoed. His prosthetic legs were incredibly stiff and clumsy that it knocked every tin can and heaps of scrap over. Elliot cringed upon ever clang that echoed in the dirty and silent atmosphere. Eventually, his other friend followed suit, lips pursed the entire time.  
   
Unknowingly, Elliot heaved a sigh that he was holding in and let his body slump on the floor, resting the back of his head against the cracked wall. He opened his eyes and looked up, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him. It was an odd feeling, as he was used to being energetic and determined, no matter if it’s an Overwatch mission or a personal one.  
   
He didn’t want to admit that his pretentious demeanor can be a fatal flaw. Unlike many people’s belief on how inflated ego was nothing but trouble to the person and the ones around them, he believed in the exact opposite. It kept him going. It made his adrenaline rush, and it forced him to aim for an even higher standard. He can excel in his missions. It would make everyone else look up to him.  
   
He was used to having his eyes glued on the world map, especially when he used to work under Overwatch. As of recently, he was set on studying the Australian Outback. It intrigued him on how it was practically a post-apocalypse wasteland with many creative resources that he would love to steal. It was interesting to say the least; the fact that in a world where resources were limited, they were more creative with their inventions than those who already had everything at their fingertips.  
   
So he generated his own personal mission to advance his next project – to steal from the Outback. Whether it was stealing someone’s premade creation or regular scraps of trash. Elliot was aware of the extremely harsh conditions of the Outback. It was an arid and desolate country and the survivors from the Omnium explosion were bountiful and very animalistic in a sense.  
   
The Australian Outback was the literal hell in the world, except it was isolated from everyone and only the residents enjoy being here.  
   
He groaned, having the desire to pinch his nose to contain everything inside of him. The pain in his injured arm was unbearable. He didn’t bring along a med-kit. He didn’t think it was crucial. He thought of it as a quick in-and-out mission, but obviously, he was outplayed.  
   
Elliot already spent a few days in Junkertown and the Queen wants him dead along with the local. The only thing he was successfully able to steal was a small part of the Queen’s riches, which he barely escaped from. As for the resources, he didn’t expect for everyone to be incredibly protective and aggressive of their town and junk.  
   
“I can still do this,” he let out breathlessly and gathered himself. He attempted to stand but the moment he tried to straighten his back, pain shot from his arm, dragging him back down. Elliot gasped as he landed, convincing himself that whatever shot him was not a bullet. He was shot before, knowing that bullets are supposed to be clean and sharp. Whatever got him was larger and bulkier. Maybe the Outback couldn’t compensate for bullets but had plenty of junk to shoot.  
   
Elliot’s eyes narrowed, running his fingers through his greasy and messy black hair. The rough material from his gloves kept scraping his forehead. He was hissing at his futile attempts; his fingers starting to pace and run scratch marks in his scalp. For a moment, he stopped to grab a fistful of hair and he cried out, “What the hell’s wrong with me!”  
   
Adding to his intolerable pain, he banged the back of his head against the crusty wall. He wanted to cease his crying, yet the more he tried to restrain himself, the more tears came out. Things weren’t going his way, and he knew that. He didn’t want to accept that. There had to be another way, there always was.  
   
His mind was all over the place. At this instant, he remembered his conversation with his mother back in Canada a few weeks prior.  
   
“Honey, how have you been?” his mother started and Elliot’s heart panged with several emotions. This was the first time his mother ever called him in years. Even now, he could still tell the disappointment in her tone and the slight hint of fear. She still believed him to be a criminal ever since he was arrested.  
   
Due to the lack of a response, his mother continued, “Hey, I know I’m asking for much, but it would be great if you went to your cousin’s Thanksgiving party. Abraham, you remember him, back in America? The one with little Daniella and Hazel? They invited you.” Her voice held a kind yet cautious tone and Elliot raised a brow at her request.  
   
“Okay.” Elliot responded dryly, licking his lips afterwards. He hadn’t meant to say it in such a monotone response but his heart was swelling and he wasn’t sure what to feel.  
   
For some reason when he spoke, it instigated something in his mother, “T-That’s great, sweetie, o-oh. We didn’t expect you, to uh, you know, c-come.” She audibly gulped, “Alright, thank you, sweetheart. We’re n-not going by the way. G-goodni—“ She hung up and Elliot was met with a deafening silence. Sweat beaded and rolled down his forehead. He didn’t know what to do.  
   
Unconsciously, he halted himself at some point from banging against the wall and the pain became incredibly numb. The wound was throbbing and the blood stopped seeping. His tears inevitably stained his cheeks and he sniffed, “God, I’m such a fucking mess.” He closed his eyes, refusing to abandon his personal mission and go home. What if the materials to make the best prototype was here? A creation that bested his others? That’s what kept him going. He was his own role model.  
   
A vibration emitted in his tiny backpack and Elliot tried to reach for it but failed. Was it his mother calling him again? Maybe to scold him for not going to the Thanksgiving party?  
   
The vibration stopped and he was met with a brief moment of silence. Static grumbled in his backpack as it tried to communicate. For an instant, Elliot heard a voice and his dizziness subsided.  
   
A deep voice sounded, though a bit muffled, “ _The world decided they were better off without us_.”  
   
Elliot nearly jolted from the familiarity of the voice. Winston. He couldn’t believe it. His train of thought crashed when he kept talking, “ _They even called us criminals!_ "  
   
He felt his heart stop. He contributed to that section and he knew it. Overwatch did not deserve to be torn apart figuratively and literally. They gave him and everyone else so much to be torn apart so easily. He knitted his eyebrows, realizing that what he’s doing at the moment likely contributed to Overwatch’s breakdown.  
   
“ _They tore out family apart._ ” A wave of sadness suddenly overcame him, his eyelids drooped. “ _But look around! Someone has to do something!_ ”  
   
Animalistic groans echoed in the alleyway, its legs scraping the ground and junk around it. It was the same man that nearly killed him. Elliot closed his eyes and decided to let his nerves relax.  
   
“ _We have to do something!_ " The man’s legs kicked away all the junk in his way and started to steer inside the alleyway Elliot hid in. His groans quickly became intimidating growls. These people in the Outback were not human.  
   
“ _We can make a difference again. The world needs us now, more than ever_.” Winston’s voice became louder and more passionate, his words echoed in Elliot’s mind. “ _Are you with me?_ " He can imagine Winston’s smirk before his radio tuned into static, signaling the end of the message.  
   
Elliot cracked a smile, knowing exactly where he needed to go next. He was willing to give in his heart and mind again if he had to.  
   
The groans echoed louder as the man tried to hurry down the alleyway with failed prosthetics. Elliot quickly rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and reached for his gun. “Stacy, text Mercy.” To his surprise, his voice wasn’t shaky or broken from his tears, it sounded stronger than it should have been. “Tell her that I need some assistance here.”  
   
The radio in his backpack beeped, “Understood, texting Mercy and sending location. Be careful, Elliot.” His radio advised and he let out a low hearty chuckle.  
   
Elliot stood up, reloading his Infra-beam. “Ya stupid mongrel! I told you to leave!” The man roared as he turned the corner.  
   
“Stacy, you know I never am.” He had his eyes set on a new goal. A goal that he knew he can crown over and be satisfied.

Overwatch.

**Author's Note:**

> "It's what I want, not what I need."
> 
> A short story about my OC Elliot Jones on a personal mission of his. I was suddenly inspired to write this.
> 
> https://www.quotev.com/QueenCandyness/journal/4396834/Elliot-Jones-Overwatch-OC


End file.
